


A Man From the Street

by theinsandoutsofcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsandoutsofcastiel/pseuds/theinsandoutsofcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can you do one where Michael just got out of the cage and the angels won’t take him back in heaven, so he’s injured and takes shelter in an abandoned building where the reader finds him and takes care of him thinking he’s just some homeless guy? :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man From the Street

Warnings: None, just fluff!

Fic:

“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?” you ask the man who’s huddled on the ground beneath the awning of an abandoned building that had once been a flower shop.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” he responds quietly, avoiding your gaze. He clearly wasn’t alright. His dark hair was disheveled, his clothes tattered, and he probably hadn’t bathed or eaten in a while, but the most striking thing about him was his green eyes and the fear that pooled there. His gaze shifted from place to place as if someone, or something, was after him and he was terrified that they might find him.

“Have you eaten anything lately?” you ask gently.

“No,” he responds.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Michael,” he says reluctantly.

“Nice to meet you Michael, I’m Y/N. Come with me,” you tell him, “I’ll buy you some food.” He seems hesitant, but when you hold out your hand to him he accepts. Michael stands and his stance makes you think that his whole body aches. You decide to take him to the nearest sandwich shop and tell him to order anything he wants.

“I’m sorry,” the cashier says to Michael, “We can’t serve you.”

“Why the Hell not?” you ask angrily.

“Have you seen the state of him?” the cashier asks.

“So, what, you’re serving people based on how they look despite the fact that they’re willing to give you money?” you retort.

“Well, it’s not his money, it’s yours,” the cashier says.

“Precisely,” you say back, “And since it’s my money I can spend it how I choose. In case you were wondering, I will not be choosing to spend it here.” You turn to Michael and give him an apologetic look before leading him from the shop.

You take him to several other shops, all with similar responses. Finally, you make up your mind. Taking home strange men wasn’t something you did, ever, but something about Michael made you trust him.

“Why are you helping me?” Michael asks.

“I don’t know, you seemed like you could use some,” you respond shrugging your shoulders. You pull out the key to your front door and push them into the lock before turning it.

“You don’t have to you know,” he tells you.

“I know,” you say with a gentle smile, “But I want to.” You pull on the handle of the door and tug it open. “I’m going to warn you, this place is a mess,” you tell him.

A small smile crosses his lips, the first real sign of emotion he’d shown since you’d met him. “It can’t be any worse than where I’ve been living,” Michael says. You step inside and gesture him in. He bursts out laughing. “You weren’t lying, this place is a mess!” he exclaims.

“Well, I did warn you,” you respond, laughing with him. You try to straighten some things as you give him the tour of the house. When you’re done you turn to him. “Would you like to take a shower?” you ask, “I have some extra towels you could use.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” he responds. You lead him back to the bathroom and pull an extra towel and washcloth from the closet along with a fresh bar of soap and a razor your ex had left behind.

“So you can use these,” you say as you hand him the items, “The water can be a little tricky, you might have to jiggle the handle to get the temperature right. Feel free to use the shampoo that’s in there if you want. Oh, I have some old clothes that might fit you if you want them. I’ll leave them in the hall for you. I can go ahead and start dinner, is pasta ok? That’s all I really have at the moment.” Your nerves cause you to ramble, but Michael doesn’t seem to mind.

“That would be wonderful, thank you for everything,” he says. You nod and close the door behind you, leaving Michael to his shower.

When you reach your room, you rummage through your closet looking for clothes that you’d always meant to donate to Goodwill. They belonged to an ex and for some stupid reason, you’d never gotten rid of them. At least they’d be useful now. You pick out a shirt and pants and fold them nicely before placing them outside the bathroom door. You can hear the water start to run as you walk away towards the kitchen.

You look through your cabinets for pots, pans, and the ingredients to make spaghetti. Finally, you get a pot of water boiling on the stovetop. Michael steps into the room as you pour the pasta into the water. “You can have a seat if you like,” you tell him, gesturing to the table.

“Thank you,” he says as he takes a seat. He looks less frightened than before, yet also less comfortable in clothes that aren’t his. His green eyes look a little brighter with the dirt removed from his face and he looks younger after having shaved. He sits in silence before he begins to speak. “I think I could fix your shower,” Michael says quietly.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say.

“You’ve helped me, I should repay the favor,” he says.

“You really don’t have to,” you respond.

“Please?” he asks.

“Um, ok,” you say as you bring two plates to the table. You set them down before moving off to make two glasses of water. “I’ll make you a deal,” you say as you sit down across from him, “If you think you can fix my shower, I’ll let you stay here until the job is done.”

“You should be careful of who you make deals with,” Michael says, “I could be a crossroads demon for all you know.”

You laugh at his comment. “Well, luckily demons don’t exist,” you say, “Besides, I think I can trust you, can’t I?”

“I am one of few trustworthy people,” he responds sadly, “There’s a whole world out there that you don’t even know about. You should be wary of trusting so easily.” You tilt your head to the side and watch as he begins to twirl the spaghetti around his fork. His words scare you, not of him, but of what he’s seen. The two of you finish your meal in silence. You watch some T.V. with him before deciding it’s time for bed.

Gathering up some sheets and pillows, you make a makeshift bed for Michael on the couch. “I’m sorry, this isn’t the best couch,” you say.

“Don’t apologize,” he says as he smiles at you, “Anything is better than nothing.” You nod and tell him good night before heading off to your room. Changing your clothes, you decide it’s probably a good idea to lock your door, just to be safe.

When you awake in the morning, you can hear the clink of metal on metal. You wander out of your bedroom and down the hall to find Michael already awake and working on your shower. He greets you with a tired smile and you offer to make him some breakfast. Michael graciously accepts.

After you’ve finished cooking, you call Michael to the kitchen and sit down to eat your meal hoping that this one would be less awkward than the last. Thankfully it was. The two of you talk mostly about your families. From the sound of it, his was rather large and the majority of his brothers and sisters were angry with him for having different opinions than they did. He never knew his mother and his father seemed absent. It upset you that his whole family would just abandon him and leave him to the streets. Michael thanks you for the meal and heads off to work on your shower again.

Over the next few days, Michael continues to fix your shower. The longer he stays, the more fond you grow of him. You actually begin to despise the day your deal comes to an end; that day comes all too soon.

“I’ve finished my work,” Michael announces one day to your dismay, “Would you like to see?” You follow him back to the bathroom and inspect his work. Sadly, you can’t find a single flaw.

“This is great Michael, thank you,” you tell him.

“You’re welcome Y/N,” Michael says, “I suppose our deal is done, I should be going now.”

“You don’t have to go,” you tell him, “I wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a burden,” Michael responds.

“I don’t think you’re a burden. It’s nice having someone else around to talk to,” you say, “And besides, if you really want to earn your keep, I’m sure there’s something else around here that could be fixed.”

Michael smiles a sad smile. “I should move on,” he says, “It’s dangerous for me to get attached to any one place or person.” You knew he was referring to his relationship with his family, the people who had abandoned him.

“Michael, do you have anywhere to stay?” you ask. He shakes his head ‘no.’ “Then stay here,” you beg, “I don’t know how long you were living out on the streets for, but I don’t want you to go back to that. I want you to stay here, with me.”

“You do?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you respond quietly, knowing that you’ve practically given away your feelings for him.

“What else needs fixing?” he asks. Your heart skips. Just knowing that he’s willing to stay makes you happier than you would’ve believed was possible. You run over the list, spewing out any tiny little thing that you could think of.

The renovations take months. You grow more and more attached to him each and every day, dreading the day he decides he’s had enough and wants to leave. He seems to enjoy staying with you and helping to fix up your home, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s a facade.

“What’s next on the list of things to fix?” Michael asks one day. That’s when it hits you, there was nothing left to fix. You’re home was perfect in every possible way.

“I - I don’t know,” you respond, racking your brain for any little thing that would make him stay longer.

“I suppose you’ll want to be rid of me then,” Michael says, a frown playing at the corners of his lips.

“Michael, may I ask you a personal question?” you ask. He nods, indicating that you can ask. “How long were you living on the streets before I found you?” you question.

“You found me about a month after I’d gotten out of the pit,” Michael says.

“I don’t want you to ever go back,” you say before pausing, “Wait, what’s the ‘pit?’”

“It’s Lucifer’s cage in Hell,” Michael responds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You weren’t sure you were hearing him right.

“I’m sorry, did you say you were in Hell?” you ask.

“Yes,” Michael says, “And when I got out, my brothers and sisters refused to let me back into Heaven, so I wound up living on the streets for about a month until you found me and took me in.” His smile fades as you furrow your brow at him. You’d been living with a crazy man for months and hadn’t even realized until just now, not to mention the fact that you’d developed feelings for him.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re an angel that went to Hell, came back, and got banished from Heaven,” you summarize.

“Well, I’m an archangel, but essentially, yes,” he says.

“You’re insane,” you say.

“I’m quite sane actually,” he responds.

“No sane person believes themselves to be an angel, let alone an archangel,” you say.

“I can prove it,” he says.

“Oh really? Then go right ahead, because until you do, I’m going to believe you’re crazy,” you respond. 

Michael pulls his shirt over his head and shifts his shoulders. You watch in amazement as six enormous wings unfurl from behind his back. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight before you. Wings, he had actual wings. Even though you were seeing it, you couldn’t help but think it must be some sort of trick.

“You can touch them if you like,” Michael says as he moves one of his wings towards you. You reach your hand out and touch the feathers gently. Feathers that must have been pure white were now singed black at the tip, Hellfire. How could you not believe him now?

“If you’re an angel, then why did you bother wasting time on me?” you ask quietly.

“Because you bothered wasting time on me,” he says in return, “People walked by me every day, but you were the only one to stop and offer me help. If anyone here is the angel, it’s you.” You blush at his words and shake your head. “It’s true,” he says as he steps closer and hooks a finger under your chin. He raises your gaze to his before continuing. “You were kind to me when no one else was. You gave me a home and a purpose. I can never repay you for that,” he says.

“Yes you can,” you respond, “Stay here, with me. That’s repayment enough.”

Michael laughs as he cups your cheek and slides his other arm around your waist. His wings wrap around you, shielding you from the world. “You ask for more burden as payment?” he asks.

“Like I said, you’re not a burden,” you say as a whisper, “I love you.” 

A smile crosses Michael’s lips. “I love you too Y/N,” he says before he leans in to press his lips to yours.


End file.
